Sharing is Caring
by made-in-wonder
Summary: Angstshipping. Written for fanfic50 and au abc on LJ. Kidfic. Ryou doesn't realize what he's in for when his daddy asks him a favor.
1. Ryou Accepts a Request

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Yugioh.

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Ryou Bakura's daddy was an archaeologist, and Ryou was very, _very _proud of him. Ryou didn't mind being left alone, or shuttled between relatives, if it meant his daddy was off discovering old worlds or unearthing hidden secrets. Aside from maybe being a wizard (a job which, as the bullies at school pointed out while kicking him face-down into a mud puddle, rather lacked a future nowadays), Ryou really couldn't think of a cooler thing his daddy could be!

And then one day Ryou's daddy excavated a _boy_.

"This is Malik," Ryou's daddy told him, leading a dark skinny boy a few inches taller than Ryou into the hotel room. "Yes, Daddy," Ryou replied, since he'd seen the TV specials – how many going-on-nine-year-olds could say that their daddies had been on TV for digging up not only ancient mummies, but real live people as well?

Malik had been dirty and sticklike when they'd first led him out of the ground, but now he had been given some nice new clothes to wear and a clean, trimmed haircut. Only his eyes, staring at Ryou like he could burn the other boy to the ground, remained creepily alien.

Nervous, Ryou gulped and offered a helpful little wave. "The psychologist said Malik should spend some time with boys his own age," Ryou's daddy was saying; that much, Ryou hadn't known from the TV. "I received permission for you two to not be filmed – Malik also needs his privacy. Can I count on you to look after him while I go interview his sister some more?"

Ryou's daddy nudged Malik, prompting the boy to draw a stack of illustrated index cards out of the pockets of his fancy new pants. "Since he doesn't know any modern languages yet we've been using these cards to talk to him. He'll show you the picture when he wants something."

That seemed like something people might do with babies, not a boy Ryou's own age. Ryou felt sorry for Malik – but here in Egypt he kind of wished he had some cards like that, too. "Sure, Daddy," he agreed, though the look on Malik's face made him antsy. "W-will you be a while…?"

Ryou's daddy sighed, lifted his hands from Malik's shoulders; Malik wandered away, past Ryou as if the other boy wasn't there, and curled up on the bed with the TV remote. (He'd picked up on some things really fast, Ryou recalled.)

"I can't exactly be sure," said Ryou's daddy, scratching the top of his head. "We have to get his sister to talk about their father – no one knows what to do with him…"

Malik's daddy had gone straight to jail, since he'd tried to kill Ryou's daddy's team and really hurt someone else who'd tried to make him take a bath. Ryou glanced at Malik, whose full attention seemed given to the swirling static as he pressed the "channel" button at rapid speed, and felt bad again. His own daddy had done a really cool thing by digging Malik's family out of the ground, but for the first time Ryou wondered what it would feel like to have strangers bust into his home and drag him somewhere totally new. No wonder Malik seemed so sullen.

"Well, you can count on me, Daddy," Ryou promised – and how hard could this be? The TV had said Malik was interested in everything. Ryou would just show him all his toys and games, and even if they couldn't talk they could still have fun! "I'll take good care of Malik!"

"I'm proud of you," said Ryou's daddy, and headed off for his interview. Ryou waved goodbye until the door had closed all the way, feeling pretty hopeful. He hadn't brought _many_ toys, but maybe Malik would like his comics! Or the new dragon he'd bought with his allowance, two weeks back…

Malik, however, waited until he was sure Ryou's daddy wasn't coming back through the door. Then, like a silent ghost, he pounced on Ryou from behind.


	2. Malik Becomes Prince

**Disclaimer**: Yugioh still isn't mine.

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"Don't you have a T-shirt card or something?" Ryou asked, wincing, as he pulled Malik's shirt over his own tousled white head. "I'm glad you know what Kuribohs are and all, but…"

"Kuriboh," nodded Malik, poking the screenprinting on what _had_ been Ryou's favorite Duel Monsters shirt until Malik'd set his own sights on the bright garment with the familiar pictures. "Mine."

Malik knew a couple of Japanese words, Ryou had quickly found out. Malik was a real bright kid, a fast learner. Compared to him – and in light of how easily Ryou'd been overpowered from behind – Ryou already felt kinda small.

"Sure, you can have it," he offered ruefully, but Malik shook his head and stuck a hand into his pants pocket, drawing out a different set of cards – one Ryou recognized instantly.

"Kuriboh," Malik insisted, holding up the respective card; and although Malik's copy bore on it the same squiggly foreign writing everything here in Cairo did, Ryou couldn't deny the picture remained the same.

"Oh, you have the _card_," Ryou remarked, scratching his head. "Sorry, sorry….I hadn't heard you played!" He turned around (not without some anxiety, this time) and rummaged in his carry-on. "I've got a deck too….hang on…."

But by the time Ryou turned back around with a fistful of fiends, Malik's cards had been stashed back away and he was waiting, serious-faced, with his "water" picture card held in front of his chest. "Oh, you're thirsty," observed Ryou, wondering for a moment why he was even bothering to keep talking. "Okay, we have stuff in the little fridge."

They didn't have just water in the room, but also cans of soda. "Water or soda?" Ryou asked, looking up – and found Malik bouncing on the bed, a look of fierce exhilaration on his face, Kuriboh shirt flapping with every jump.

Ryou sighed. He was, for the most part, a stationary sort of boy, and should have remembered from the TV that Malik could be a handful. "You'll get in trouble with the hotel people," he objected, popping open a can of soda with a dry, crackling fizz. "Here, try this. It's sweet, you'll like it."

Malik kept bouncing, all the way to the edge of the bed – and to his great credit managed not to blunder his leap to the floor, though it did produce a _thud_ Ryou felt certain the people in the room below them would be calling reception about. Malik looked at the proffered can with wide, critical eyes; Ryou handed it to him and hastily opened another, to demonstrate the soda was safe to drink. "Careful about the bubbles," he warned as Malik brought the can to his mouth. "Don't drink too much, or-"

Malik, intrepid, took a huge gulp. His eyes widened, his nostrils flared; "I _warned_ you," whined Ryou as the other boy stared at him, mouth open from the burn of too much carbonation. Yet despite the look on his face, Malik made no move to punish Ryou for inflicting such a sudden new experience upon him. He took another sip of his can – gentler, yet longer – and grinned.

Ryou was glugging away quite happily at his own soda. "Good, isn't it?" he asked; Malik smiled in return and knelt, curious, to examine the remainder of the fridge's contents.

"Ah," Ryou protested as Malik drew forth a little ice-cream cup, "that's mine. It was really hard to find here, just the way I like it…..you can have anything else, but that one's just for me, okay….?"

If Malik understood, he pretended not to, even going so far as to innocently blink his eyes in confusion. Turning his attention back to the frozen treat, he examined it for a moment and tugged at the little silver flap.

Ryou didn't want to be rude, but something told him if he backed down now Malik might leave not just with his ice cream, but with all his toys and games and comics to boot. "Sorry, but I said it's _mine_," he insisted, knowing Malik knew the word, grabbing onto the cup and trying to yank it out of the other boy's hands. "We can share it, maybe, but you can't just take—"

Malik, angry now, tugged at the cup. When Ryou didn't relent, he snapped a foot out and kicked Ryou squarely in the kneecap.

Caught unawares, Ryou squawked and went down easy, dropping to the floor to clutch his aching knee. "That hurt," he complained tearfully, staring up as Malik scooped his ice cream up and began devouring it by hand. "Malik, that hurt…."

Imperious, Malik looked down. Ryou, curled miserably on the floor, wibbled. Malik crooked two fingers into the ice-cream cup and, kneeling, spooned it into Ryou's trembling mouth.

A lesser boy would bite him, thought Ryou sadly, but I'm a good boy. I won't. He's – trying to share –

His knee twinged again and Ryou grimaced in pain. Malik, polishing off the ice cream, knelt back down and planted a sticky kiss on Ryou's soft, blush-smudgy cheek.

Ryou started. "Was that a 'thank you' or 'I'm sorry'?" he asked as Malik offered him a hand. Ryou accepted it hesitantly and was helped to his feet. "Either way, I….I guess it's all okay, if you understand you were bad…."

Malik stared at Ryou, drew out his Duel Monsters deck again. "Duel," he ordered, tapping it with all the regal bearing of a prince who always got his way. Ryou, wilting, limped with a whimper back over to his bag to retrieve his deck again. Things really weren't, it seemed, going to change.


	3. Ryou Makes a Sacrifice

**Disclaimer**: Yugioh remains someone else's.

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By the time Ryou's daddy came back into the room the floor had been littered with comic books and action figures and plates left over from room service (including one broken glass that'd spilled orange juice everywhere). The TV was on, tuned to some bootleg cartoon dubbed into Arabic, and the bed looked as if a Japanese and Egyptian Duel Monsters shop had erupted into war right then and there.

Ryou, an icepack on one leg, sat squashed against the pillows with Malik's head, fast asleep, cuddled up into his lap. "Hi, Daddy," Ryou offered weakly, eyes sunken like a jetlagged businessman's. "I'm sorry about the mess. But Malik likes me."

Ryou's daddy smiled, began straightening up; Ryou felt a faint warmth at not being scolded. "He certainly seems to," his daddy agreed, to which Ryou shrugged helplessly: this had just sort of happened. The past hours had all meshed together in one frantic Egyptian blur.

"You know," Ryou's daddy remarked as he set about re-sorting Ryou and Malik's decks for their respective owners, "this looks like the liveliest Malik's been. When we share this with his psychologist she'll be so thrilled! You may get to be on TV yourself and spend a lot more time with him!"

"Yes, Daddy," Ryou answered meekly, patting Malik's sleeping back and trying to ignore the pain in his own knee. He almost felt as if he wanted to cry, but Ryou's daddy was an archaeologist and that meant Ryou understood this life better than anybody. For the sake of progress and the history of the human race, untold sacrifices had to be made.


End file.
